


Peter Red.

by ob_liv_ious_writer



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, BAMF Peter Parker, Gen, Genius Peter Parker, Homeless Peter Parker, Homelessness, Hurt Peter, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Irondad, Mama Spider, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Stucky - Freeform, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ob_liv_ious_writer/pseuds/ob_liv_ious_writer
Summary: When Peter was younger, he wanted to make a new color. He didn't see why he couldn't, to be perfectly honest. He mixed paint all day long, splattering it all over his desk as he worked, but it was worth it. At the end of the day, when his aunt and uncle came home, he had a brand new color to show her. He called it 'Peter Red.'(His aunt said it was called maroon, but what did she know, anyway? It was Peter Red, and he loved it.)
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 47
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue what I'm doing here (literally zero planning has gone into this), but I'll try and make the grammar okay? Honestly, good luck.

When Peter was younger, he wanted to make a new color. He didn't see why he couldn't, to be perfectly honest. He mixed paint all day long, splattering it all over his desk as he worked, but it was worth it. At the end of the day, when his aunt and uncle came home, he had a brand new color to show her. He called it 'Peter Red.'

(His aunt said it was called maroon, but what did she know, anyway? It was Peter Red, and he loved it.)

Peter covered everything in his color; a tradition that he kept through the years. On his tenth birthday, his aunt got him an Ironman helmet that was painted in Peter Red. He wore it for a week straight, laughing and giggling all the way.

(The color was a little off, but he didn't tell her.)

When Peter started High School, his chemistry notebook was Peter Red. He painted it himself; the color calmed him, somehow. The notebook was with him at Oscorp, as a radioactive spider sunk its teeth into his neck; It lay abandoned on his bedside table as his aunt sponged his forehead and his uncle fed him soup, and as soon as he was fit, it served as the perfect place for him to record his observations.

(Later, Peter would say that the notebook was the only reason he came up with the formula for his web fluid. Tony would push him playfully and tell him that it was all his 'big old brain.' Tony wouldn't understand.)

When Peter got mad, his vision was obscured by a film of Peter Red. The film that made him run out of the apartment after The Fight, and the film that blinded him to his aunt and uncle following him. Peter cursed the film as he dove into the pharmacy, longing for somewhere to hide. If it wasn't for the film of Peter Red, he surely would have seen the scary-looking-man in the corner of the store. If it wasn't for the film, maybe he would have ducked out of there before his aunt and uncle arrived. 

(He didn't.)

By the time that the film of red had faded, blood flooded the aisles of the pharmacy. His aunt and uncle lay dead. Peter thought that someone was screaming. Later, he would realize that it was him. Peter tried desperately to stop the bleeding, even as the cashier told him that it was hopeless. They were dead. Peter's fingers were covered in his color, now. Peter Red blood soaking into the knees of his jeans and dripping from the sleeves of his hoodie. Not knowing what else to do, Peter ran.

(He didn't stop running.)


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was fine. Just a little tired, is all. And cold. And hungry. Being homeless was harder than he had expected, but it was still far better than foster care. He had been to one foster home and stayed for almost a month. Yeah, not happening. He was fine, though. Totally fine.

(Okay, maybe he wasn't fine, but he wasn't going to admit that.)

Peter had created Spiderman with his last dollars, buying an old sweatshirt from the thrift store. It was Peter Red; a reminder of why he was Spiderman. A reminder of the blood seeping into the knees of his jeans. Of course, as he went longer and longer without food, Spiderman got a lot harder to maintain. Stab wounds wouldn't heal overnight anymore, and he had gotten far too close to passing out mid-web-swing. And he was running low on webs. All around, it wasn't looking good for Spidey.

(It looked even worse for Peter.)

Still, no matter how tired Peter was, he still went on patrol. This night was no exception. He donned his sweatshirt and worn ski mask, and he took off after crime. Someone had to keep the streets of New York safe, after all.

(Why did it have to be Peter? Because he was Peter Red, of course.)

Patrol didn't start off well. Or end well, for that matter. He blamed it on his slow reaction times and aching limbs. He was too busy thinking about whether his fingers should be _that_ pale to dodge the knife.

(They shouldn't have been.)

On second thoughts, it might have been a good idea for Peter to take a break, he figured. Then at least he wouldn't have been bleeding out in an alley. He had gotten his mask off, at least, and shoved it into his pocket. Then if someone found him passed out, they wouldn't connect him with the spider-boy of Queens. He probably should have taken the sweatshirt off too, but he wasn't thinking straight, to be honest. He had almost succumbed to the void of sleep when he heard shouting. He couldn't find the stamina to move, though. Not until someone came charging into his alley. 

"Jesus christ," the man muttered, not having seen Peter yet. His voice sounded oddly familiar, but Peter was too tired to place it. He was too tired to do much, to be honest. Too tired to even move further into the shadows. That unfortunate fact is probably why the man saw him within thirty seconds of entering his alley.

"Shit," he hissed, noticing Peter. "Look, kid, I'll give you 100 bucks if you don't tell anyone you saw me, okay? I'm kinda doing the whole don't-get-caught-by-the-paparazzi thing tonight." Peter tilted his head ever so slightly. The man wasn't making much sense. Peter just wanted a nap, to be honest.

"Kid? You good?" The man asked. If Peter didn't know better, he would've thought he sounded concerned. For the sake of being nice, Peter decided to respond.

"M'fine," he mumbled, though he wasn't sure how comprehensive he was. "Just a little stabbed. Lightly impaled, so to speak." He giggled, satisfied with his response. 

"What? Stabbed?" The man rushed towards Peter. If he had had any more energy, he would have scurried away, but to be honest, Peter was planning on taking that nap just about now. Yeah, a nap seemed like a good idea.

(It wasn't.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me, turning off the news to write fanfiction. In all seriousness though, stay safe everyone. <3

Tony had been having a shitty day, overall. He had been stuck in meetings all morning without a single coffee break. Usually, he would have just skipped these meetings, but Pepper had given him an ultimatum. 

(Tony knew that Pepper wouldn't break up with him, but it still wasn't something he was willing to risk.)

His day having been as shitty as it was, Tony would've been perfectly happy to wind down with a mindless movie and some popcorn. Unfortunately, Pepper wanted chocolate, and whatever Pepper wanted, Pepper got.

(Tony wasn't a pushover. Not at all. _Never._ )

That's how Tony found himself walking to Walgreens. Of course, he could have gone to any store in the city, but he knew that Pepper loved the chocolate from that one Walgreens in Queens, so that's where he went. Alone. On a dark evening in New York City. On second thoughts, Tony realized it might not have been the best idea.

(It wasn't.)

The paparazzi caught up to him on the outskirts of Queens, right near the bad part of town. He left his sunglasses behind, so he was decently recognizable. Not a good move on his part, there. In one last attempt to ditch the cameras, he ducked into an alley. He had barely taken a breath when he noticed a kid. He was curled in on himself at the back of the alley, looking like a cat that someone had tried to drown.

(It was freezing out, but Tony couldn't help but notice that the kid wasn't shivering.)

Tony offered the kid money because he didn't know what else to do. He wasn't good with kids, okay? Money, though. He had money. Throwing money at problems always seemed to help.

(It didn't.)

Then, the kid deigned to mention that he had been _stabbed_. In all fairness, he was probably far from lucid, but Tony still thought that it might have been something to lead with. Tony rushed towards the kid, who promptly collapsed further into himself. He cursed under his breath, and quickly pulled the kid into the lightest section of the alley. He was light. Too light.

(Tony pretended that it didn't bother him. It did.)

It was fair to say that the stabbing was far from _light_ , Tony knew that from the second that he saw the kid in the light. His sweatshirt was soaked, though you could barely see the blood through the already-red fabric. Starting to panic, Tony pulled out his phone and dialed the one person that he knew would be able to fix this. Happy.

"Hap, I'm gonna need you to pick me up."

 _"What did you do now, Tones_ "

"I found a kid bleeding out in an alley. Can't be more than sixteen. No ambulance is going to be able to save him, I need you to get us to the medbay. Now."

 _"Jesus, Tony. I'm on my way."_ The phone clicked as Happy hung up, leaving him alone with the kid again. 

(He wasn't scared. Not at all.)

Tony sent a quick text to Cho, telling her to be ready. Then, he got to work. 

(Tony wasn't sure about much, but he knew for a fact that he wasn't going to let this kid die.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wELL i almost abandoned this fic. Life is a bitch. Anyway, here's an update! Finally! I didn't read over it at all, but eh. Enjoy! :)  
> ~ Liv

When Peter woke up, the first thing that he saw was white. The pristine tiles of a ceiling that must have been cleaned in at least the past week.

(The brightness hurt his eyes, but he wasn't about to complain.)

Next he smelled antiseptic. That's when something clicked. Antiseptic meant hospitals. Antiseptic meant sterile gloves and gushing wounds and folding chairs and-

(Antiseptic meant danger.)

Peter scrambled to sit up as he emerged from the haze of painkillers, yanking the I.V out of his hand. Blood spattered onto the clear, white bedsheets in tiny droplets. Peter Red spreading across the fabric.

(Peter knew he didn't have time to spare, but the sight of the blood spreading onto the sheets was mesmerizing.)

Machines beeped as he stumbled out of the bed, chiming in a melody of panic. Peter clutched onto the bed frame for balance as the world spun around him. Then, a doctor rushed in, attempting to grab his arm. Peter pushed him away as quickly as he could, the man's reassuring murmurs blending into the manic alarms.

(Peter wasn't sure if they were in his head.)

He let himself slide down the wall until he was crouched on the floor. His spidey sense was merely a humming in the background, not a scream anymore. He still wanted to run. He couldn't go back to foster-care, but hospitals meant Responsible Adults, and Responsible Adults meant foster-care. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could.

(Peter used to love Responsible Adults. He didn't trust them anymore.)

"You back with us yet, buddy?" a familiar voice asked a few minutes later. He still couldn't quite place the voice, but he knew it was the same one that he had heard in the alley last night. Right, the alley. That was how he ended up here. 

(Good Samaritans weren't as bad as Responsible Adults.)

"Yeah," Peter mumbled, cautiously opening his eyes. He looked to the man crouched on the floor next to him. Then, he understood. God, Peter could be such an idiot sometimes! "Holy shit!" He exclaimed, "you're Tony Stark!"

"Yes I am. And you're that spider-kid." Peter's heart skipped a beat. Nobody was supposed to find out about Spider-man. _Nobody_. He scooted further into the corner, eyes darting around the room to find a suitable escape route. Peter couldn't panic. Not yet.

(He panicked.)

"Hey, hey, slow down, underoos," the man-Tony Stark-said. Peter stumbled to his feet, making a beeline for the window. His webshooters were still fastened around his wrists, practically fused into the layers of dirt that caked his skin by this point. 

"Thank you for saving my life, Mr. Stark," Peter said, desperately suppressing the stammer in his voice. He couldn't show any more fear. "But I have to be off now. Things to- Things to do, people to save, you get me?"

(The stammer was definitely noticeable. Shit.)

"Kid, I can help you-" Tony insisted as Peter slid open the window. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stop him. 

"I don't need help," Peter said with a shaky smile, clambering hastily out of the window and aiming his shooter. "Thank you though, Mr. Iron-man sir." Careful to hold his balance, Peter swung away.

(Peter lied. He definitely needed help.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so here we're going to meet the team so I guess I have some explaining to do. Essentially, I want the avengers around, so we're messing with timelines. Imagine this as pre-homecoming and civil war, BUT bucky is there because I love him a lot, okay??? We're gonna be focusing on mama!nat because I love it even if it's OOC. Anyway, have fun reading :)  
> ~ liv <3

Natasha Romanoff was used to Tony's antics by now. All of the avengers were, to be honest. He burst into the room ranting excitedly about some invention or other that nobody but Bruce could understand. It was annoying at first, but it was just one of the things that they got used to after living at Stark Tower for a while.

(There were plenty of other, more annoying things anyway.)

Therefore, when Tony burst into the common room seemingly on the verge of a panic attack, nobody was too alarmed. Clint and Sam were engaged in a _passionate_ game of Mario Kart that they refused to look up from, Steve and Bucky were cuddling on the couch because they had never heard of PDA, and Wanda was reading a book in her armchair. Thor and Bruce were probably out somewhere, and Rhodey was at work. Nat, of course, was merely observing. 

(She liked to observe. She was good at it.)

It was a nice atmosphere, until Tony walked in. They were all relaxing, enjoying each others presence. Then, of course, Stark had to ruin it.

"I need help."

(Three words; how could they say so much?)

Tony had never asked for help before. Not since he got sober, at least. So naturally, as soon as he said this, everyone jumped up. Nat's eyes drew immediately to the dried blood that remained on his sleeves. They had all seen him bringing in a kid earlier-it wasn't exactly easy to miss-but Nat was surprised that he hadn't changed yet. The deep, maroon blood stood out on his crisp, white shirt.

"Where are we needed?" Wanda asked, her accent thick and gravelly. 

"The kid, you saw the kid I brought in, right?" Tony said, pacing the room. Nat glanced at Steve, the two of them sharing a look of concern.

"Yeah, Tones," Steve said warily, "It was hard to miss."

"Yeah, well he's the spider-kid that's been swinging around Queens. The one that Fury told us to look out for."

"He's-" Clint started, but Tony quickly shushed him.

"Yes, I know. And he's homeless, thing was practically a scarecrow."

"Jesus," Sam muttered. 

"Why is this urgent?" Natasha asked. 

(She hadn't meant to sound cold. Tony just seemed far too anxious for such a non-emergent situation.)

"Because he bolted."

(Ah. That made sense.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hELLO. Whoops. So- yeah. Took me a while, but at long last, here's another update. It sucks cause i'm tired, but still, voila!!

If Peter knew anything, he knew how to run. He knew New York like the back of his hand; every alleyway simply a vein. The malnutrition made him sloppy and the still-healing stab wound made his swings abrupt, but none of this could eclipse the fact that he had been running nonstop since the day that the Peter Red haze had obstructed his vision. 

(Seeping blood, folding chairs, white coats-)

As soon as he was far enough away from the tower, he collapsed onto a rooftop and let the black dots fade away from his sight. With his hands on his knees, crouched against the railing, Peter took a deep breath and reassessed. He didn't have his backpack, but there wasn't much in it anyway. Maybe a protein bar or two. Nothing that would have made too much of a difference in the long run. He would have to find some food. Preferably soon, since his healing tended to sap any remaining energy.

(He should probably skip a few patrols, he realized. He probably wouldn't. The city was more important than him, anyway.)

Peter got to his feet, stumbling for a few steps. He grasped onto the railing and looked out at the city. His city. The streets were alive with people, bustling around their daily lives. Peter liked to invent stories for them in his head. Happy stories. A baby cried somewhere, and a mother cooed. Two friends laughed. An old man tapped his foot. A woman screamed.

(That was his cue. No rest for Spider-man.)

By the end of the day, Peter had saved ten people, three dogs, and a goldfish. He was bruised and tired, but nothing too life threatening. Too tired to even dumpster dive, Peter ducked into an alley and pulled off his mask, discreetly scaling the wall to rest on a rooftop. It was cold, but Peter had known colder. He liked the view up here, anyway, which made up for the lack of shelter from the wind.

(He wished he could jump, but his city needed him. They needed Spider-man.)

Peter curled up on the hard concrete of the roof, closing his eyes tight. For a moment, he considered what would have happened if he didn't run. What if Mr. Stark hadn't ratted him out to social services? What if he had given him a meal - like an actual, warm meal, not something that Peter had scavenged out of a dumpster. Something like what Ben used to make. He pushed the thought away quickly, and succumbed to the void of sleep. No point pondering an unattainable fantasy.

(If he wished on a star before he fell asleep, begging for help from whatever deity that would listen, nobody had to know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter!! He got so close to help, but I wanted to fit in a little bit more whump before the tooth rotting fluff that is to come. Not sure when the next update will be, but bother me on tumblr (https://liviagracey.tumblr.com/) for more chance lol.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, here's a chapter :)

“Any sign of him?” Tony asked over the avenger comm set for the third time in the past ten minutes, his tone stern and commanding.

(To most people, it would’ve seemed threatening, but Natasha was a professional spy. That, and she knew Tony.)

“Negative, Stark,” she said. On second thoughts, it might have been too cold, but there was no time for emotions on a mission. Emotions were messy. Emotions got you killed.

“We’ll keep looking, Tony,” Steve said, ever the optimist. Natasha merely revved her motorcycle.

(Natasha was the pessimist of the team. Steve was the optimist. That was how it worked; they balanced each other out.)

“Brucey, you got a line on Thor?” Tony asked. They’d only just gotten hold of Bruce himself, who had been at some sort of science convention in Boston. Natasha didn’t understand that shit, and she didn’t pretend to; all she needed to know was that he was doing science in Boston, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. 

“We’re really pulling out the big guns for this?” Bruce asked, “People will notice if there’s a god around.”

“We just need more eyes. We can’t search this entire fucking city alone.” 

(Tony was really playing up his aggression today. Nat knew it was a coping mechanism, but man this kid must have made an impact on him.)

“Bruce, try and find one of those spidey-sightings blogs,” Nat suggested. She’d seen one or two of them on her twitter feed, and they seemed relatively reliable. “Kid must have an insane moral compass to become Spider-man in the first place, there’s no chance he’ll stop now.”

“Right, yeah,” Tony agreed hastily. “Get on that, Bruce.”

(And she was branded as the cold one-)

\------

They returned to the tower cold, weary, and defeated that night. They had chased Spider-man for hours, only ever arriving in time to see his signature webs disintegrating and the police leading haggard criminals away. Tony had insisted on continuing the search, even hours after the spidey-sightings drew to a halt. Still, they had no success. The city was simply too big.

(It was near impossible to find a singular person on the streets of New York without a name. Natasha would know. That didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to try, though.)

“I’ll call in some favors,” she promised, patting Tony on the shoulder sympathetically as she turned to leave. “We’ll find him.”

(It was a lie, Nat knew that. Even Tony probably knew that; no insider source would be able to get her  _ the  _ spider-man. Still, Nat had noticed over the years that people liked to be lied to.)

“We will,” Steve agreed. “Besides, he’s been getting by, hasn’t he?”

“Barely,” Tony grunted, resting his head in his hands. “The kid was practically dead when I found him, even despite the stab wound. He can’t be older than sixteen.”

“We’ll find him,” Bucky affirmed from the corner of the penthouse living room. 

“We have to,” Sam agreed. 

(They were avengers, after all. What was the point if they couldn’t save a single kid?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so ima try to get these out more often, but i am verY inconsistent, so we're kinda just vibing with it. The chapters are v short cuz that's how i work, but lengths might vary a little. Anyway, come yell at me on tumblr (@liviagracey) if you want, and don't forget to drink water!!  
> -Liv


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo woo, two chapters in two days! Hope you enjoy, and comments and kudos are always appreciated! :D

Peter woke up under the stars, but he couldn’t appreciate their beauty. He was cold, he was hungry, his side hurt, and he felt like absolute garbage. Swinging all night with a barely closed stab wound and stunted healing from malnutrition was probably not a good idea, on second thoughts. All things taken into account, Peter wasn’t particularly lucid as he crawled down the side of the building, still suited up, and began to wander the streets.

(He hadn’t been very lucid in a while, to be fair, but this was a new low.)

Before he knew it, Peter was on the other side of the city, with no idea how he had gotten there. The few people that were out and about brushed past him without a second though, most likely dismissing him as another haggard spidey cosplayer.

(Peter wished it was a cosplay. He wished that he could go home and laugh in the warm, before changing into some PJs and reminiscing over the day.)

Shaking his head to clear the naive fantasies, Peter tried to get a grip on his surroundings. He saw a light post, a parking lot, and a flickering neon sign. Delmar’s. It had been his favorite deli as a kid, and his uncle took him every day. Had taken. Past tense.

(Blood red, sterile gloves, creaking chairs, red, red red. Peter Red.) 

Peter had collapsed onto a bench across the street before he even knew that he was moving. There was so much red for such a colorless world. It was in the street signs and the traffic lights and the cherry tinted windows. He couldn’t escape it.

(Maybe that was the point of Peter Red. His curse. His karma.)

\------

Thor had had a bad day. Not only had he been stuck in meetings with the Asgardian counsel all day [A/N: just roll with me here], but the tower had run out of poptarts. Not a good combination, leading to a grumpy god.

(Nobody wanted a grumpy god.)

He was hardly paying attention to his surroundings as he stepped into the frigid night, looking out for a taxi that he could hail to shorten his journey.

(He was finally starting to learn all of Earth’s customs, nonsensical as they may have been, and taxis were one of his favorites.)

It was only really due to his heightened vigilance in the noble quest for a taxi that he spotted the boy at all. Most people wouldn’t have stopped--Thor could see them walking past him--but Thor prided himself on helping those in need, and this boy, dressed in some kind of suit and clawing frantically at his eyes, clearly needed help. 

(Thor didn’t really know why he was drawn to the boy, but nonetheless he found himself wanting to protect him.)

“Are you in need of assistance, child?” Thor asked hesitantly, walking up to the boy. His eyes darted around, eventually coming to a stop on Thor’s red sweater. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut again.

“I’m okay, Mr. Sir,” the boy said, his words slurring together ever so slightly as if every attempt to talk was paining him. “Perfectly okay. Some would even say I’m the okay-est of okay people.” He chuckled at his own rambling, cracking his eyes open to look up at Thor, and promptly passing out.

(Thor didn’t know much about midgardians, but he knew that they did not usually collapse like that.)

Thor rushed to the boy’s side, feeling for a pulse. He found one quickly, but it was weak. Scooping the boy up in his arms, Thor took off towards the tower at full speed. If anyone could fix him, it would be Stark.

(Thor wasn’t entirely sure why he cared so much, but something deep down inside of him knew that this child’s survival was essential.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone actually picks up on why Thor is drawn to Peter, i will be super impressed lol. Anyway, thanks for reading! I might be starting a spidey one-shot series soon, so drop any requests in the comments!


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